


A Terrible Thing

by Luna_Myth



Category: The Wizards of Once Series - Cressida Cowell
Genre: Canon Compliant, Divination, F/M, Forbidden Love, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Magic, Missing Scene, Pre-Canon, True Love, its a scene in canon that i wrote myself i dont know what to tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 15:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21304664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Myth/pseuds/Luna_Myth
Summary: "But how should she get rid of her love?A true love's kiss is the strongest thing in the world. It cannot be got rid of by sneezing.So the young princess did a terrible thing. "--Wizards of Once: Twice Magic, pg. 249Sychorax goes to see the Great Wizard Pentaglion at Castle Death.
Relationships: Sychorax/Encanzo | Tor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	A Terrible Thing

**Author's Note:**

> somebody's gotta. just finished knock three times and im upset.

Pentaglion lived alone in his castle--that is, if you did not count his giant and his sprites and his werewolf. So perhaps it would be more accurate to say Pentaglion lived as the only human in his castle, if, indeed, you could consider one who routinely spent so much time as a raven fully human. In either case, he did not expect to hear from anyone any time soon, and that suited him perfectly, for he was in the middle of researching looking into the future. Looking into the future is a dangerous practice, and it is best done in isolation, for full concentration. 

Unfortunately, Pentaglion was not to be left alone. 

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK 

A rather rude banging came from the front entrance to the castle, followed by the sound of the door opening. Apparently the visitor only wished to announce their presence and not actually wait for an answer. 

Pentaglion stood up from where he’d been supervising the creation of a spell and went to see who could have POSSIBLY come all this way to see him. 

It was a young woman. 

She was quite beautiful, this young woman, probably around twenty years old, but that wasn’t the first thing you noticed about her. No, the first thing you noticed was how TALL and IMPOSING she was and the look of UTTER DETERMINATION on her face. She was dressed in armor marking her as a Warrior, but her presence here seemed completely contradictory to someone who had been brought up to hate Wizards and their Magic like poison. 

“I need you to get rid of my love,” she said, in a voice as swift and deadly as an arrow. 

Pentaglion stared at her. He was so shocked at her sudden appearance that he didn’t even think to ask her who she was. “Why would you need me to do that?” 

The young woman narrowed her eyes at him calculatingly. “I need it gone, or I cannot become queen.” 

There was a pause. 

“This sounds like quite a complicated story,” Pentaglion said, gesturing for the young woman to follow him. “Come with me into the Spell Room, and we’ll see what we can do.” 

“By the way,” he said, as they were walking back to the room he had just come from, “what is your name? I can find out in other ways, but it’s much simpler if you just tell me it.” 

“Sychorax, of the Warriors,” said the young woman after a moment. “And you are the Great Wizard Pentaglion, who I am only trusting with my name because I need your help.” 

She did not say anything more until they reached the Spell Room. Pentaglion waved a hand, and a table and chairs trotted in to join them. He went to keep an eye on the spell he had been preparing before the young woman showed up. 

“You are the first visitor I have had in quite some time,” said Pentaglion. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me unawares. Do have a seat, if you’d like.” 

“I’d rather stand,” said Sychorax. 

“You do seem to be in a hurry, don’t you?” Pentaglion shook his head disapprovingly. “Tell me your request, once more, from the top. You said you need me to get rid of your love. Why by the great green gods would you need that? It’s no easy thing, you know, getting rid of love! Especially true love, which I would imagine yours is, if you’re so desperate to get rid of it by Magic.” 

“I am not  _ desperate  _ to get rid of it,” Sychorax said hotly. “I  _ have  _ to, or I cannot do what needs to be done. It’s for the greater good.” 

Pentaglion turned to look at her, his interest piqued. “The greater good, you say?” 

“Yes,” said Sychorax firmly. “I have to be Warrior queen of the wildwoods, or someone much worse will take my place.” 

“And why can you not do this while there is still love in your heart?” asked Pentaglion, but he thought he already knew the answer. 

“Because it is love for a Wizard,” the young Warrior princess said bitterly, “and Warrior queens cannot marry Wizards.” 

“Ah,” said Pentaglion. “Well then. Let’s see what the future has to say about this, shall we?” 

He ushered Sychorax towards the cauldron containing the spell he’d been preparing, and she stepped forward readily, like she’d been prepared for this eventuality. Perhaps word of his experiments with looking into the future had spread further than Pentaglion had thought. 

“Until we know the future,” said Pentaglion, “all may yet be well. It is possible that marrying your Wizard would turn out fine for everyone, and then you would have no need of my Spell of Love Denied.”

This spell was, of course, what the young woman was after, and Pentaglion was loathe to give it to her without looking into other possibilities first. Not only is it a terrible thing to get rid of love, to have all feelings of fondness shrivel and die in someone’s heart, but the Spell of Love Denied is terribly tricky to make, and Pentaglion would rather not go through the effort if he didn’t have to. 

“It is unlikely,” admitted Sychorax, “but not impossible.” 

Equally unlikely was the idea of Sychorax having come to Pentaglion without the intention of looking into the future to check this exact possibility. Although she tried to deny it, she was holding onto a small flicker of hope, one last chance for a better ending before accepting the hand Fate had dealt her. 

Pentaglion stirred the cauldron once, twice, three times counterclockwise, and while the surface of the liquid was still in motion, he said, “Show me the future where a queen of Warriors marries a Wizard.” 

Instantly the purple liquid in the cauldron stilled and turned clear as glass, until Pentaglion and Sychorax were looking down into an infinitely clear void with no end in sight. Slowly, images appeared as if at a great distance below them--the wildwood as seen from above. The scene blurred and refocused, and they were much closer now, hovering over a festive scene in a very unruly part of the wildwoods. It was Wizard camp, and as they watched, a wedding was underway. A serious young woman was marrying a rather silly young man, but they both looked blissfully happy in that way that only those in true love are. The two kissed, and the scene changed. 

The same couple as before appeared, but they were perhaps a few years older, and the young man was holding a small child that bore a striking resemblence to the young woman he was gazing at with such admiration. She reached out and attempted to pat down the child’s hair with no success before giving up. The young man laughed as strands of his daughter’s hair tickled his face, and the young woman couldn’t seem to stop herself from smiling too. 

The scene changed again, and suddenly it was nighttime above the wildwoods, a cold winter’s night. But something was wrong. A dark swarm was approaching with unholy speed, and although no sound could be heard, the trees rustled with the noise of its approach--a ghastly shrieking unlike anything else in the world. Bolts of deadly green lightning shot from the cloud, and as it got closer, it became obvious it was not a cloud, but a swarm of WITCHES, all sharp talons and hooked beaks and oily black feathers. The bolts of lightning decimated the wildwoods, setting fire to the ancient trees, and it became obvious there were people down there, running for their lives. 

The couple from before was running, their daughter clutched in the young woman’s arms as they fled, but it was not enough. The young man was blasting the Witches with magic, but for every one he killed, two more took its place, until Sychorax and Pentaglion watching from above could barely see them, could hardly make out the people for the Witches. One, two, three Witches dived for the child the woman was carrying, and just before they made contact, the scene changed for the final time. 

It showed the wildwoods as a barren wasteland of ash, with not a human in sight, but as far as the eye could see, there were Witches flying, swooping, shrieking with cruel pleasure. The scene continued in that way for some time before it finally cut off, the liquid in the cauldron turning back to purple. 

Sychorax was crying, but Pentaglion pretended he didn’t notice, instead busying himself cleaning up the remains of the spell, for seeing-the-future-liquid was dangerous stuff to leave lying around. He kept out of the way until he was quite sure the young woman was in control of herself once again, and then he turned to look at her with a solemn expression. 

“The Spell of Love Denied,” he said, “is quite tricky to make, but fortunately, I have all of the ingredients already. You’ll only have to wait a moment.” 

“Good,” said Sychorax in a voice as cold and sharp as the first frost of winter. “The sooner the better.” If her eyes were still red from crying, Pentaglion didn’t care to comment. 

He made the spell with a level of precision and speed he had not achieved in quite some time. It was a good job, he thought--he could only hope it would be enough to ward off oblivion at the hands of Witches. 

Pentaglion put the spell in a bottle and corked it before handing it to Sychorax. “Be careful with it,” he warned, “and be sure to drink all of it. The Spell of Love Denied is one of the most powerful canceling agents in the world--it has to be, in order to overpower true love. But that makes it quite dangerous, and I’d prefer it only be used for its intended purpose. And if you don’t drink all of it, all of your love might not be destroyed.” 

Sychorax said nothing, merely took the bottle, uncorked it, and brought it to her lips. She hesitated for only a moment, and as for what she thought in that moment, Pentaglion had no idea what it could be. Whatever it was, it brought a sad smile to her face, and then she upended the bottle and drank. 

There was no obvious effect from Pentaglion’s perspective, but Sychorax soon lowered the bottle, her expression neutral. 

“Ah,” she said. “It worked.” 

“Did it?” said Pentaglion nervously. “That’s good, then.” This whole experience had left him rather on edge. 

“Yes, I suppose it is,” said Sychorax. Her expression was quickly becoming extremely odd, and Pentaglion found he wanted the now loveless Warrior out of his castle as quickly as possible. “Thank you, for your service,” the Warrior queen said. “I had best be leaving now. Goodbye, Wizard Pentaglion.” 

“Goodbye, future Queen Sychorax,” said Pentaglion. “May your future turn out as you hope.” 

“The same to you,” said the future queen, and with that she left as abruptly as she had come, and Pentaglion found himself alone in his castle once more. 


End file.
